And setting the handle of his spear upon the rock, with a sudden movement he fell forward, transfixing his heart with its broad blade, and lay still.

“At least he died like one of the blood-royal of the Sons of Fire!” cried Nodwengo, while the armies stood silent and awestruck, “and with the blood-royal he shall be buried.  Lay down your arms, you who followed him and fought for him, fearing nothing, and give over to me the witch that she may be slain.”

“She hides under the tree yonder!” cried a voice.

“Go up and take her,” said Nodwengo to some of his captains.

Now Noma, crouched on the ground beneath the tree, had seen and heard all that passed.  Perceiving the captains making their way towards her through the lines of the soldiers, who opened out a path for them, she rose and for a moment stood bewildered.  Then, as though drawn by some strange attraction, she turned, and seizing hold of the creeper that clung about it, she began to climb the Tree of Doom swiftly.  Up she went while all men watched, higher and higher yet, till passing out of the finger-like foliage she reached the cross of dead wood whereto Hokosa hung, and placing her feet upon one arm of it, stood there, supporting herself by the broken top of the upright.

Hokosa was not yet dead, though he was very near to death.  Lifting his glazing eyes, he knew her and said, speaking thickly:—­

“What do you here, Noma, and wherefore have you come?”

“I come because you draw me,” she answered, “and because they seek my life below.”

“Repent, repent!” he whispered, “there is yet time and Heaven is very merciful.”

She heard, and a fury seized her.

“Be silent, dog!” she cried.  “Having defied your God so long, shall I grovel to Him at the last?  Having hated you so much, shall I seek your forgiveness now?  At least of one thing I am glad—­it was I who brought you here, and with me and through me you shall die.”

Then, placing one foot upon his bent head as if in scorn, she leaned forward, her long hair flying to the wind, and cursed Nodwengo and his people, naming them renegades and apostates, and cursed the soldiers of Hafela, naming them cowards, calling down upon them the malison of their ancestors.

Hokosa heard and muttered:—­

“For your soul’s sake, woman, repent! repent, ere it be too late!”

“Repent!” she screamed, catching at his words.  “Thus do I repent!” and drawing the knife from her girdle, she leant over him and drove it hilt-deep into his breast.

Then with a sudden movement she sprang upwards and outwards into the air, and rushing down through a hundred feet of space, was struck dead upon that very rock where the corpse of Hafela lay.

Now, beneath the agony of the life Hokosa lifted his head for the last time, crying in a great voice:—­

“Messenger, I come, be you my guide,” and with the words his soul passed.